"How do you know it will be any good, Tom?" asked Songbird.
"Oh, I'm not sure that it will be. But the druggist told me that the men were well-known in the movies and had some first-class show-houses elsewhere, so I'm hoping it will be all right."
"Is it going to be a five or ten-cent house?" asked another.
"Five in the afternoon and ten at night."
"Then I'm going to begin to save my pennies," announced Spud, seriously. "I've got two saved already and if I am careful for the next month or two I'll have enough to buy a ticket."
"That is, provided I'll lend you one cent," added Tom, and this caused a general grin. He looked around and saw William Philander approaching. "Hi, Tubblets!" he called out. "Here's a job for you." And he waved his hand quickly for the dudish student to approach.
"Now, no more jokes, Tom Rover," was the warning of the stylishly-dressed one. "No more jokes."
"Jokes?" repeated Tom. "This is a job—a splendid situation—open to just such a handsome, well-proportioned young gentleman like yourself."
"What—ah—do you want?" asked William Philander, curiously.
"Wouldn't you like to assist during the evening at a new entertainment at Ashton? A couple of gentlemen are getting up an entertainment for the benefit of the ladies and gentlemen and they wish the aid of a real nice young man, to show the folks to their seats and make them comfortable, and all that. And maybe they'll want you to sing—just to help things along, you know."